


Time can heal, but this won't.

by thundernlightning



Series: OC story snippets [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Original Work
Genre: Angst, Blood, Blood and Gore, Hurt No Comfort, Mc doesnt die dw, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Not Beta Read, Only background deaths, Trauma, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26393395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thundernlightning/pseuds/thundernlightning
Summary: His arms were sore, and he felt as if if he were to spent a moment longer with the farm tool in hand, his arms would completely pop off from the weight of it.Just as he was about to drop the tool onto the ground, he heard a scream arise from the village.Jake whipped around, eyes flicking over the houses he could see in the distance.That scream,he thought.That scream was horrifying.
Series: OC story snippets [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1900540
Kudos: 3





	Time can heal, but this won't.

**Author's Note:**

> Ayooo another one for my MC oc universe!!!! Can't wait to write for my other ocs and somehow get them to meet
> 
> [this is what Jake looks like!!](https://i.imgur.com/OcyRz9b.png)
> 
> And [heres the picrew I used!!](https://picrew.me/image_maker/163761)

Tilling the dirt was never a favourable chore of his.

Swinging the hoe back and forth, up and down until Gabe—the farmer he worked for—would call for him to stop, either bringing him food until he would have to get back to tilling, or asking for him to work on another task.

His arms were sore, and he felt as if if he were to spent a moment longer with the farm tool in hand, his arms would completely pop off from the weight of it.

Just as he was about to drop the tool onto the ground, he heard a scream arise from the village.

Jake whipped around, eyes flicking over the houses he could see in the distance.

 _That scream,_ he thought. _That scream was horrifying._

He dropped the hoe before bolting his way to the age old wooden fence, grabbing onto the top and pushing himself over, landing on the dirt path with a grunt.

He heard another scream, this time much deeper than the last, but still as bloodcurdling.

 _More than one,_ he thought to himself. _More than one victim, he has to get there quick._

He didn't spare another second, running once again as fast as his legs could carry him. They peotested, pain pulding throughout his calves, but he knew, he knew that if he didn't get there in time, there would be much more to worry about then sore legs.

With each thundering step, he felt the wind slam into his face, cold air leaving him to squint as his eyes began to sting from how dry they were.

He rapidly blinked as he finally made it to the sign post, not giving it a glance as he bolted past it, the weeds wrapping around the bottom of the post disturbed by the wind draft he created.

Another scream, this time closer. He felt goosebumps raise up onto his skin. 

He was so close, just a few more steps, so close, he could touch the back of the wooden shops that had been there since before he were born—

He stopped, his feet skidding, a dust cloud kicking up at his feet, billowing out below him.

There was blood.

It pooled on the ground, it was splattered on the walls, it dripped down limbs and off limp hands—

He watched as the people he had been told about all his life, the ones to run away from, to stay clear of, to pray if you ever see them—

They were there, in front of him, bashing the tailor man's face against the log handrail, blood flying and dripping onto the ground, screams and cries carried to deaf ears.

They were there, looting bodies of people that had just wished him good morning earlier that day, that he never got to say goodbye too, that he will never get to say goodbye too while they listened to him, giving him a smile, assuring him it was okay—

He was ripped out of his mind when one of the raid members saw him, yelling at their fellow raid members to attack.

Jake stumbled back, watch as the individual that was looting the lifeless body turn towards him, pulling out a silver axe, a sadistic grin on his face, and a glint in his eyes.

Jake ran.

He turned around, running behind the shops, successfully confusing the raiders for a moment.

He ran out the other end, behind the small shopping district the village had cherished for decades.

He heard a roar, and the sound of glass shattering as he kept on running, now back on the dirt path.

_.He had to see his family._

He panted, his lungs burned, his legs begged for mercy, he needed to stop—

_He had to keep going, make sure they're safe, keep them alive—_

He ran.

With every piece left of his hope and energy, he forced his legs to keep going, throwing his arms back and forth as he fought his lungs to take mouthfuls of air.

The angry callings coming back from the centre of the village were put at the back of his mind, forcing himself to think about the more important things.

He needed to save his family.

* * *

It wasn't long till Jake had finally made it to his home.

A small wooden cottage, complete with a stable for the horses and a paddock for sheep.

He powered his way up the three stairs that led to the front door, but just as he grabbed the doorknob, he pulled away from it with a shriek.

He looked down at his hand, covered in blood.

He looked down at the doorknob, eyes widening in fear as he saw the blood that stained it.

He felt the world stop around him.

No.

He turned the doorknob,opening the door and quickly making his way inside, whipping his head around the room he entered, heart pounding in his ears.

_Where are they._

He scanned the room before hastily moving to the next. He walked to the open door way, entering the second room, and—

Oh.

His father.

His mother.

His brother.

His father lay on top of the dining table, a wound in his back, blood dripping down from the table and pooling at his legs.

His mother lay on the floor, eyes glazed over as her face held a fearful expression. Blood trickled from her stomach, and the floor beneath her was stained with blood that had obviously been on her hands while she clawed at anything within reach, in hopes to survive.

And his brother.

He lay beside his mother, a deep cut in his neck, blood pooling around him and his mother.

His eyes were also glazed over, but his expression peaceful.

The rooms air was filled with nothing but the stench of blood.

Jake felt his stomach flip.

He thought he was going to be sick.

Without warning, a hand grabbed his shoulder, pulling and pushing him to the ground.

He screamed, trying his best to hit the person touching him, but all he saw was a glint of iron before the object was swung at him.

Jake rolled away, the axe barely just missing him.

The vindicator yelled, reaching out for Jake, but Jake slipped through his fingers, getting up and running towards the front door.

He ran out, spotting another vindicator at the bottom of the stairs. 

Jake pushed the man, both sent tumbling to the ground. 

Jake got up, feeling his legs numb and arms start to pulse in pain at the continuous use.

He stepped forward before a hand grabbed his ankle, surprising him and sending him falling.

The vindicator from inside the house screamed, running outside the house before running over towards the scuffle on the ground.

Jake felt his heart skip a beat, and in a moment of pure fight or flight, kicked the vindicator that had his grip on his ankle square in the face, watching with a twisted sense of satisfaction as they let him go, screaming in pain as thy clutched their nose.

Jake picked himself up, barely missing the axe thrown at him before he once again began running.

He ran towards the forest, dodging the branches and leaves that hand from the canopy, and jumped over the twisted roots of the trees that bulged out of the ground.

He ran, even as his legs felt as if he would collapse, even as his lungs begged to stop, and even as his mind begged to cry out into the world, begging _anyone_ to _help him._

He ran.

It wasn't until night had fallen, and he had been running for however long, that he had chosen to stop.

He fell to his knees in front of a pond, watching as the moonlight helped in reflecting himself off of the waters surface.

He took notice of the blood that had smeared on his cheek.

He saw the bags under his eyes.

He noticed a boy.

A boy, with no place to call home and no family to love.

He felt his eyes tear up.

He had _no one._

He blinked, a tear tracking its way down his cheek before landing in the pond.

Even as he lay his head on the ground, surrounded by foilage and the sounds of the animals around him, he couldn't stop hearing the screams.

He closed his eyes, and all he saw were the bodies of the people he once loved.

He cried himself to sleep that night.

It wouldn't be the last.


End file.
